A Ready Heart
by CrazyMaryT
Summary: When the heart is ready, love is boundless.


_I consider this a most precious gift. _

_Spoilers for S7._

_Enjoy._

He leans against the headboard, the wood cool against his bare back, and silently surveys the room. He should have cleaned more thoroughly. What were those socks doing in that chair? Why hadn't he followed through with changing his sheets two days ago? What if …

His attention is drawn to the closed door and the light spilling from beneath it. Then, suddenly, the light disappears and he feels his heart begin to race, each beat pounding in his ears like a drum. He reaches out and grips the water glass that he keeps on his bedside table, taking a long drink to wet his now dry lips and mouth. He returns the glass to its resting place just as the door knob turns and the door begins to open just a bit … slowly, torturously.

And then, there she stands, the woman who has managed to be patient with him, to let him work through his own demons, to stand beside him through it all, to be his friend first and foremost. She leans against the door, smiling at him and his boyish grin. She wants to memorize the sight of him drinking in the sight of her. She's never felt more beautiful, more alive, and even anxious than she does at this moment.

He cannot help the grin on his face. He knows it's silly but there it is. His life is about to change again, only this time it will be a good change, a welcomed one, a happy one. He cannot help but stare at her for the longest time. No words being exchanged, only darkening eyes memorizing every single detail.

She is standing there, leaning against the door frame, her right ankle crossing over her left, her bare feet and legs giving him an enticing view. Her arms are idly by her side, not looking for something to do or crossed over her chest as if she were ashamed or trying to hide something. They're just … there … ready and willing to embrace him should he request it. She rests her head on the door frame, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, growing a little concerned that he hasn't said anything. And then he speaks.

"My God, Laura, you're beautiful," he says softly, asking her to join him by quirking his finger at her and patting the vacant side of the bed.

She ducks her head and pushes off from the doorway, walking slowly towards him, making sure he gets a good view of her. She crawls onto the bed with him, but instead of slipping beneath the sheets, as he might have anticipated, she kneels at his side, placing her warm hand against his bare chest.

He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to her palm, then her wrist. "I thought you'd come out wearing my flannel robe, or maybe a towel," he teased.

She laughs and her eyes sparkle. "I considered the robe, but it was much too big on me, not at all conducive to seduction, either. And the towel … well, I'm saving that for another day, perhaps. Fresh from the shower, we hair, water droplets still on my shoulders. I'm sure you can imagine the look all for yourself," she teases.

"Oh, indeed I can, Laura." He is relieved to hear her already speaking of a next time, another day, a future. It only reinforces what he's already feeling in his heart, not to mention the desire coursing its way through his body. "I will wait until you're ready for that, then, though I hope I won't have to wait too long."

"So you're not upset with me? For stealing your freshly starched and ironed shirt?" She toys with the third button of the pristine white shirt that she is wearing. It is the first button she has fastened and she cannot help but notice how his eyes are drawn from the button to her face, then back to her fingers worrying the little white bit of plastic.

"Not at all. It suits you very well, and that's the best that shirt has ever looked, to be quite honest." He feels his cheeks warm a little, suddenly contemplating what she is or isn't wearing beneath his work shirt. Then, suddenly, he has no coherent thoughts left in his head as she leans across his body, stretching her leg out behind her, stretching her right arm out in front of her, turning off his beside lamp. On her way back to her kneeling position, she stops and presses her lips to his, silently encouraging him to take the lead, letting him know that she is ready.

One hand settles on her waist, the other cupping her cheek as the kiss deepens. Suddenly, he's applying a little pressure on her hip, asking her to straddle him, and that is exactly what she does. Her hands rest on his bare shoulders, her fingertips lightly gliding along his skin and giving him delightful shivers. She kisses him slowly, deeply, letting him set the pace. After all, she assumes this is his first time in quite a while and she refuses to rush him, push him, drag him into something he might not be ready for just yet. She's been patient this long. She will be patient until he's ready.

His lips abandon hers and begin gliding along her neck towards her ear. His hands, his very strong yet very gentle hands slip up her thighs, caressing them as if they were the finest porcelain, until they disappear beneath the hem of the shirt she's wearing. He inhales sharply when he realizes she is wearing nothing underneath, nothing to stand between them and the love they obviously feel for each other. His reply is a deep moan as his hands slide over her hips to her bottom, his fingers now pressing into her cheeks, drawing her closer to him.

"Well, well, Inspector," she teases with a whisper in his ear, "conducting a very thorough search of the suspect, I see."

He laughs. "Indeed, I am. One can never be too careful with a shirt thief." His warm hands move from her bottom, up her back, and finally back around to caress her stomach. "I do believe I'm going to have to ask you to remove this shirt." His lips are soft against the hollow of her throat.

She throws her head back and moans his name. "Mmmm, Robbie." Instinctively, she begins to move her crux against him, his hardness which is still covered with a thin, pale blue sheet. She can feel the effect she is having on him and she feels empowered, loved, desired, wanted. She rocks hard against him as she looks into his eyes. She can feel the moistening of the sheet and it excites her, makes her realize that all of this is real, they're together, and it feels so incredibly right. "I do believe you should take your own advice and remove this," she says to him, tugging at the sheet until he is naked before her. "There, that's better," she says, before leaning down to brush her lips along his chest while still grinding against him.

He is trapped between her thighs but he is still able to roll his hips, arch up into her grind. He desperately wants to see her but he is also desperate to feel her envelop him in her warm wetness. "If I'm to bare all, I believe you should as well," he answers, placing a finger beneath her chin and encouraging her to look at him.

She sits up, statue still, on his lap, fighting hard not to continue the delicious rhythm she has already established. He's still not buried within her, but that will come soon enough. She's enjoying the teasing, the playfulness, the tenderness between them. She stretches her hands out to her sides, inviting him to do as he pleases.

Slowly, as if unwrapping the last present on Christmas morning, he starts. He unbuttons the bottom button of the shirt, using his index finger to open the shirt a little more, letting that same fingertip sweep swiftly across the newly exposed skin. Then another button. Another sweep of the fingertip, followed by another button. This time, he slips his hands beneath the shirt, splaying his hands around her sides, his thumbs tracing the underside of her ribcage. He feels her shudder and looks up to see her eyes closed, mouth open, and her head lolling to one side. He leans forward and places a soft kiss to the area where his thumbs almost meet.

She inhales deeply and sighs ever so softly. She knows the next button is the last and she cannot wait. She hopes, prays, he will not be disappointed by what he finds, but in her heart, she knows he is not a superficial man. He loves her mind, her spirit, and yes, even her body even though he's never seen all of her until this very night. And then the last barrier, the last button is released. Slowly, he peels back the material, one side at a time, to reveal her breasts.

Gently, he cups them in his hands, massaging them, learning them, teasing them. His thumbs and forefingers roll her nipples gently, working them into hardened peaks as his lips and tongue taste the skin between the soft mounds. He nuzzles his face there, inhaling her scent, reveling in her beauty. She is holding him tightly to her, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, silently encouraging him to continue. He turns his head to the left, capturing the hardened peak between his lips, bathing it tenderly before scraping his teeth along it, then continuing to the right side. He pauses long enough to make a request. "Let's get this shirt out of the way." He is surprised by her answer.

"No, leave it on, please, for now." She can see he is confused so she continues. "Leave it on. I want to make love to you with it on," she answers, rubbing herself against his hardness again. "I want to make love with you in this shirt." She leans down and captures his ear lobe with her teeth, worrying it a little. "Tomorrow, I want you to wear this very shirt. Just knowing you'll be thinking of me, smelling my perfume, reveling in our mingled scents, reminding yourself of what we shared tonight … God, Robbie, do you know how excited that makes me?" She presses her body down on his and before she could answer, she finds herself on her back with him hovering over her.

"Do you know what you do to me, Laura Hobson?" He kisses her hard until they are both breathless. "I will make love to you in this shirt, then remove it so it won't wrinkle overnight. Tomorrow, I won't be able to think clearly, but I know it will be the best day of my entire life. I will replay these moments in my mind all day, but it will be worth every second of sweet torture, if you'll promise to come back tomorrow night."

She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him down to her, wrapping her legs around him, taking him into her body completely. "A nice bottle of red, some pasta, a fire, and perhaps a long shower … together … should be in order for tomorrow night, Inspector."

"I'll pick up dinner on the way home, love. You bring the wine and I'll provide the towel."

The rest of the night slips away as they're moving together, learning what the other likes, what elicits the deepest moans, the most satisfaction. When the other bedside lamp is extinguished, the white shirt is tossed to the floor carelessly. Laura knows she will smooth out the wrinkles for him while he showers for work. She might even wear it for him for a bit, just to warm it a little, and to insure that her perfume still lingers before sending her man, her new lover, the other half of her heart off to work in the morning. This is all new to them, but it's an adventure years in the making and one that, after last night, they both are willing to embrace whole-heartedly and with no regrets.


End file.
